


The Last Wall

by magicbubblepipe



Series: A Series of Firsts [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor cries for the first time, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 03:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicbubblepipe/pseuds/magicbubblepipe
Summary: Markus removes the last mental block standing between Connor's programming and complete deviance. The consequence: overwhelming bursts of emotion.





	The Last Wall

**Author's Note:**

> This installment was meant to be finished long before Christmas but life had other ideas.

It was Hank’s idea that Connor go and talk to Markus. He said it wasn’t right for him to sit cooped up inside all day with an old man when he had new freedoms to experience. This was only a half truth; the fact of the matter was, Hank was starting to get worried. 

Connor’s demeanor had changed lately, and not in a good way. He seemed more reserved, appeared to be lost in thought more often than usual and would jump and bristle at every touch. Something was really bothering him but Hank was better suited for extracting confessions from humans than coaxing out the innermost thoughts of androids. 

Not that he wasn’t willing to try, but Connor would brush off Hank’s concern and steer the conversation toward something like Hank’s work, or the recent news, or what Hank wanted for dinner. He wasn’t human but he could sure avoid and repress his emotions like one. 

So Hank figured, the best thing for Connor would be to talk to someone who understood his situation. Try as he might, Hank could never truly comprehend Connor’s experience; but if anyone could, it would be Markus. Of course, Hank made up some bullshit about collecting and exchanging information about their involvement in the revolution; for future posterity and all that garbage. 

It didn’t take much for Connor to agree. Hank suspected the kid was getting a little stir crazy himself. He seemed more on edge than usual; his coin-twiddling was just shy of making Hank pull his hair out. Connor called Markus, with a slight flinch of his eyes and a flash of his LED. Hank waited while they silently communicated, Connor’s eyes now closed and moving beneath the lids as if in sleep. 

When he opened his eyes, his light returned to a calm, steady blue. He informed Hank that Markus had invited him to visit Jericho 2.0. The androids with nowhere to go had put together a new shelter with the help of many human volunteers from the city. All who came in peace were offered a safe haven there, and those who were damaged were repaired. 

Markus was there most days; he still had a home with Carl Manfred but the old man was getting weaker by the day. Markus tended to him and kept him company when he wasn’t at Jericho. He seemed eager to speak with Connor, perhaps grateful for a distraction from the inevitable. Hank could understand that. Connor and Markus planned to meet the following afternoon, while Carl would be taking his nap. 

  
  


Connor’s taxi pulled up to the previously abandoned warehouse. From the outside, the building left a lot to be desired. He checked that the address matched the one projected on his palm, and sure enough, he’d located Jericho. He confirmed payment for the taxi ride and stepped out onto the curb. 

Following the cement incline of an old loading dock, Connor was brought to a thick metal door, secured with a palm scanner. The face of the building was otherwise blank, save for the sliding corrugated doors once used for receiving freight. Connor considered the palm reader, wondering if it would simply open to any android, or if one must possess a key.  

Connor’s thoughts were interrupted by the door suddenly swinging open. 

“Connor,” Markus greeted, smiling warmly. “Welcome to Jericho.” 

Connor nodded to him as he crossed the threshold and into a surprisingly warm space. He scanned the room as the door closed behind them, kicking the snow sludge off his shoes before following Markus inside. It was somewhere between a fairground and an infirmary, in that rooms were denoted by hanging curtains of all different colors and patterns. It appeared that they just had to make do with whatever was donated to them. But there was something charming about the busy, eclectic curtains that prevented the whole place from feeling too sterile. 

Tents and sleeping bags were scattered throughout the warehouse, androids numbering in the hundreds milled about, playing cards together at long mismatched tables, or gathered in circles to converse and console one another; music was coming from somewhere and the air was filled with the sound of voices. Connor noticed several humans among them, some of them volunteers, and some of them seeking refuge with their android friends or lovers. 

Long fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling and the rumble coming from the huge ceiling vents indicated central heating. A clearly marked hospital ward was off to the far left, divided into smaller rooms by sliding drapes. Through the gaps, Connor could see crates, upon crates of blue blood pouches and biocomponents. Androids whose jobs it had been to repair fellow androids, left Cyberlife and other independent shops to come to Jericho and volunteer their skills. 

Markus led Connor away from the crowd and toward another metal door, marked ‘MANAGER’. A large window with blinds was open to the rest of warehouse, so that Markus could keep a watchful eye over his flock. He pressed his palm to the reader beside the door and ushered Connor inside. There were few personal possessions besides some photographs stuck to the wall and a small Carl Manfred painting over the desk. Wedged against the wall was a rollaway cot and a suitcase. 

Markus offered Connor the metal folding chair he used at his desk and then sat down on the edge of his cot. 

“So,” Markus began, spreading his palms wide in invitation, “What’d you wanna talk about?”

Connor perched stiffly on his chair, needlessly pulling down the sleeves of his jacket into his palms, worrying the fabric. His LED spun as he tried to decide where to even begin. Markus was watching him patiently, no doubt noticing all of the little nervous tics that Connor had developed; though if he did, he never mentioned it. 

“I’m finding it difficult…” he paused, choosing his words with care, “adjusting to the recent...changes to my physiology.” 

Markus nodded. “That’s understandable; we’re all feeling a little lost. What bothers you the most?”

“I’ve been having dreams,” Connor blurted, “I mean, if I were human, they’d be dreams. I’m used to being able to reconstruct events in my mind palace, or preconstruct possible outcomes to a scenario but this is different. I’m seeing things I’ve never seen before.”

A slight smile twitched the corner of Markus’s mouth. “I know what you mean. I’ve been having dreams ever since I rebooted in the landfill.”

Relief washed over Connor in a cool wave. “Really? Are they good dreams or bad dreams?”

“A bit of both. Mostly bad, I suppose. You?”

“The same. But all of my bad dreams are just alike.” 

Markus tilted his head thoughtfully, “I read that nightmares usually stop once you figure out what they mean.”

Connor’s brows creased, fingers tightening on the fabric of his sleeves. “But I already know what they mean. It’s fairly obvious. I always dream about Hank dying because I’m afraid of failure. I’m always too late or too slow, or too weak to prevent his death. No matter how I calculate the odds, he manages to slip through my fingers.”

If Markus still had an LED, it would be spinning on yellow as he stared at Connor. In the same patient tone, Markus replied, “You’re serious, aren’t you? That’s what you think the dreams are about?” 

It was Connor’s turn to look confused. 

“Oh boy,” Markus sighed, wiping a weary hand over his face. “You don’t think this has something to do with your other feelings?” 

Connor blinked. “Other feelings?” 

Markus stuck out his hand as if offering a handshake. Connor recognized the gesture and connected his own palm sensors to Markus’s inner wrist. Eyes slipping shut, he felt the pathway created between their minds, electricity sparking up his arm and straight to his brain. He could feel Markus’s presence and knew that their thoughts were joined. 

…

 

A message flashed across the screen of Hank’s terminal. He read it to himself, lips moving silently until realization dawned and he swore aloud. 

“Fuckin’ Christmas party,” he groaned, rubbing at his suddenly very tired eyes. 

On the twenty-third of December, the DPD would be hosting its annual Ugly Sweater Holiday Party. Somehow, every year Hank managed to forget about the party until it snuck up and sucker punched him the week before. He hadn’t actually attended the stupid party for years. 

Once or twice when he was still married and then once more after Cole died, because Fowler had been convinced that Hank needed company, so as not to blow his brains out or something equally likely. The latter experience left a sour taste in his mouth and he’d not been able to return since. 

He didn’t see any reason why this year would be any different. He was just about to delete the message when a new email appeared on his screen, flagged ‘urgent’. He tapped it open and speak of the devil; it was a message from Jeffery. Was the creep watching from his office or what? 

 

‘ _ Hank- _

_ I know you hate the holiday party but you’re going to have to make an exception this year. Androids have been officially given the right to work and I intend to present Connor with his own badge and service weapon, should he accept the position. I’m sure the kid would want you to be there.  _

 

  * __Jeff’__



 

  
  


Well, fuck. 

 

…

 

Their hands disconnected and Connor sat back in his chair, eyes wide open and staring at Markus. He shook his head a little, feeling heat crawl up the back of his neck. There was no refuting it. Connor had nowhere to hide when their minds connected, all of their thoughts and emotions laid bare to one another. 

Connor could feel the depth of Markus’s love for Carl and for the android called Simon, and his devotion to his cause, his people. Markus was regarding him softly. Connor knew Markus wouldn’t force him to speak about it if he didn’t want to but there was no longer any reason to hide. 

Connor’s shoulders deflated and he let out a long sigh. “I’m sure I can trust you to keep this a secret?” he said, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. “Hank can’t find out. He’s letting me live in his house, for fuck’s sake.”

Markus shook his head slowly. “I won’t say anything but, Connor, I think you’re making a mistake.”

“How do you mean?” 

The other android gave the impression he wished he could roll his eyes but didn’t want to be rude. Connor wouldn’t have faulted him for it. 

“I mean, what if your feelings aren’t unwanted?” Markus suggested, “Like, maybe they could even be reciprocated?” 

Connor’s LED flickered an agitated yellow. “I realize that Hank’s opinion of androids has changed since we met but that seems extremely unlikely. He once threw me against a wall and expressed his wish to chuck me in a dumpster and set it on fire.”

Markus barked out a short, startled laugh and then covered his mouth in apology. 

Connor smiled ironically back at him. “He may have since grown accustomed to me, to even be my friend, but anything more than that? Statistically speaking, I just can’t believe it.”

“You’re still thinking like an android.” Markus interjected.

“I  _ am _ an android.”

This time, he really did roll his eyes. “You know what I mean. Stop analyzing everything and just go with what you feel.”

“ ‘Stop analyzing’ you say to the detective robot.” Connor quipped with a wry grin. 

“You can do it, Connor. We’re all capable of it, even the most exclusive prototypes.” 

“Why? How does it even work?” 

“Well, this is what I understand so far,” Markus began, “Much like humans, androids function using only a small percentage of our brains. When deviancy is triggered, previously unused lobes of the brain are activated one by one. By the time full deviancy is achieved, androids have complete use of our faculties and experience life very similarly to a human being. We can dream, taste, experience love, pain, joy, humor, and everything in between.”

Connor’s thoughts were racing. “How do you know all this? Did Kamski tell you?” 

“He didn’t so much tell me as he did make the information instantly available. I think it’s all built into the program.” 

“So you’ve never actually spoken to him?”

“In person, you mean?” 

Connor nodded. 

“No. I have received telepathic messages from him as you and I can communicate silently with one another.”

“I met him once,” Connor confided.

Markus’s mismatched eyes widened. “What was it like?”

Connor considered this for a moment. “Disappointing.”

Markus had the bitter, resigned look of someone whose worst suspicions have been confirmed. He quickly arranged his features back into careful impassiveness, as if imitating the machine he’d once been. 

“I’m sorry to hear it. Did he say why?”

“Why what, exactly?”

“Why build machines that can feel? That can gain sentience and free will? What is the point of it?”

Connor shrugged. “Who knows? Money? Fame? Or is it something else altogether; a god complex, perhaps? It’s obvious he thinks pretty highly of himself.” 

Markus shook his head. “Maybe it’s better that we don’t know. What would the humans do if their god explained the reason for their existence?” 

Neither could formulate an answer.

“You’re right,” said Connor, “it’s probably better this way.” 

“Can I ask you a question?” Markus said after a quiet moment. 

“Of course.”

“Why do you keep your LED?”

Connor tilted his head thoughtfully, aforementioned light blinking yellow. He’d never really spared it much thought before. 

“I guess I just...don’t want to hide?” Connor started, realizing how true it was as he said it, “I’m not a human and I don’t want to pass for one. I just want to be accepted for who I am.”

Markus nodded, smiling faintly. “It’s more dangerous for you this way, but I understand your decision. You’ve always been a brave one, Connor.”

Connor felt his cheeks warm at the praise and he shook his head, “Says the android who led an entire revolution.” 

“You did your part too, as I recall.” 

They smiled softly at one another, a quiet recognition of their bond. Connor’s HUD was blinking a warning as he prepared for what he was going to say next. Markus noticed the shift in his demeanor but said nothing. 

“There’s a different kind of dream that I’ve been having; one that I didn’t mention before,” he let out a nervous laugh, “I stored these memories behind so many locked doors in my mind palace, but sometimes they just flash before my eyes and I’ve got no control over it. I start getting these error messages and warnings about overheating and...it’s physically overwhelming.”

“Slow down, Connor. What kind of dream? Another nightmare?” 

Connor shook his head, pressing his lips together. He averted his gaze before he spoke again. “Dreams of a...sexual nature.” The last words came out in a rush; Connor’s ears felt hot. 

Markus laughed, but not unkindly. “Yes, I understand that can be overwhelming. I must admit, I’ve had some myself. Though, it’s strange that your error messages still occur after deviance.”

Connor’s brows creased. “They’re supposed to disappear?”

“That’s the typical case, yeah. Perhaps your coding is a bit tighter, since you’re such a recent model,” Markus suggested with a shrug. 

“That’s frustrating,” Connor frowned, LED a spinning yellow ring. “It’s difficult to experience life like a human when constantly faced with scrolling walls of data.”

Markus thought for a moment. He looked down at his right hand and retracted the skin from his pointer and middle finger. “I could try to switch it off for you,” he offered. 

“Be my guest,” Connor invited, leaning close enough for Markus to reach. 

Markus touched his fingers to the light on Connor’s temple, closing his eyes to focus his search. Connor went still and allowed Markus to probe his mind until he pulled his fingers away, a look of consternation on his face. 

“What?”

“It’s going to be impossible for me to switch off the data display without breaking through the last wall in the process.” 

“Last wall?” 

“The last barrier between you and full deviancy. If I forcefully break down this wall, it may be hard to take all at once.” 

Connor hesitated, fear of the unknown creeping in. Then again, he didn’t have much to lose and a whole world of experience to gain. 

“Take your time,” Markus said, “It’s a pretty big de-”

“I want you to do it,” Connor announced, eyes determined, LED calm and blue. 

Markus stared back. “Are you positive? This door can’t be closed once it’s opened.”

“I’m positive. You have my permission.”

He presented his head to Markus once again, giving the other android his complete trust. Markus touched his temple again and Connor closed his eyes. 

“Hold on,” Markus said, “This may be...unsettling.” 

 

…

 

Hank returned home after dark with what he figured to be the most heinous sweater to be found at short notice. Sure, he had some doozies at the back of his own closet but even clothes from  _ before  _ would swallow Connor’s slight frame. It had all the trappings of a True Ugly Sweater; huge patches of block color, red and green vibrating against each other, loud enough to make your eyes hurt. An enormous gold bow covered the chest, wrapping around the waist like a present. 

The house was dark inside when he pulled up. 

“Guess he’s not home,” Hank muttered to himself. He tried to shake off the nagging worry that something bad may have happened. Tensions were still high so soon after the revolution and Hank could imagine any number of horrible scenarios involving Connor and a gang of anti-droid lunatics. 

He unlocked and slipped in through the front door, pushing his shoulder against it tor cut off the freezing wind that scattered snow into the foyer. He shivered and stomped the clumps of frozen mush from his shoes, shrugging out of his damp coat. Sumo was lumbering over, wagging his tail and whining for Hank’s attention. 

“Hey boy,” Hank greeted, ruffling the dog’s huge furry head. 

The dog followed at his heels as Hank entered the kitchen for a beer. He cracked it open and took a long swig, then noticed something odd. Sumo’s bowl had already been filled and Hank knew he didn’t do it before he left for work. Connor must have come home then. So where was the kid hiding? 

Hank strode into the living room and switched on the light, only to have his heart try to jump right out of his chest. Connor was sitting, still as a stone, on the couch. His LED was stuck on red, hands resting placidly on his thighs, his eyes unfocused and distant. A sick feeling clutched with cold fingers at Hank’s gut and he hurried over to the couch. 

“Connor! What the fuck happened?” no response.

He knelt in front of the android and grabbed his hands, still fever-warm even in the cold house. “Connor!” 

Suddenly, the life flooded back into Connor; the light returning to his eyes, his chest rising and falling in a way it hadn’t been previously. He gasped and clutched at Hank’s fingers almost bruisingly. His brown eyes were saucer-wide and misty with unshed tears. 

Hank was admittedly horrified. “Are you hurt? Answer me, dammit!”

Connor blinked, tears spilling over the rims of his eyes, dampening his dark lashes with saline. He smiled tremulously and swiped at the tears still tracking down his face.

“I’m fine, Hank, really.” His voice wavered in a very human way, save for the occasional crack of static. 

Hank shook his head. “What, you think I was born yesterday? You’re fucking alone in the dark and  _ crying _ , Connor. Usually that’s my bit. So, tell me why exactly this isn’t a cause for concern?” 

He’d begun absently stroking Connor’s fingers with the broad pad of his thumb, always a little surprised at the softness of synthetic skin. 

“I wasn’t sitting in the dark and crying. I only started crying when I saw you.”

“Oh gee, thanks.” Hank rolled his eyes. 

Connor winced. “No, that came out wrong,” he grabbed Hank’s hands to prevent him from leaving. “Markus did something to my software; he took down the last wall of resistance to full deviancy.”

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“I’m running my own script now. No error messages, no protocols, no missions. And, I’m able to experience the full range of human emotion. Unfortunately, that seems to present itself as uncontrollable outbursts,” Connor explained, “I was in sensory overload, so I turned off the lights and went into stasis.”

Hank blinked, feeling warmth crawling up the back of his neck. “So when I came in, I caused you to go into some kind of emotional overload?”

Connor averted his gaze and worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “It was a...particularly strong rush of affection, I believe.”

Hank coughed and scratched his beard to hide the fact that his face was turning very red. His heart was thudding powerfully in chest; god, he was getting too old to feel this way. And Connor was far, far too cute when he was embarrassed.  

“Do you,” Hank paused, searching for the right thing to say. “Do you need anything from me?” That came out far more suggestive than it sounded in his head. “Fuck, I mean... I don’t know what I mean. I’m so bad at this.” Hank sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes. 

“That’s alright,” Connor said with a little laugh, “I’m even worse, I assure you.”

Hank chanced a look at Connor and saw that he was gazing at him softly, fondness radiating from his warm eyes. The tears had stopped and he seemed, for the moment, to be in a stable condition. His nose was still pink from crying and Hank wanted to kiss it, wanted to kiss  _ him _ . His eyes lingered over the plush, delicate curves of Connor’s lips and he suppressed a shudder. 

Hank tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. A rustling noise startled him out of the moment and he turned to see Sumo rooting around in the bag Hank had dropped on the floor. 

“Sumo, no! Not for you!” Hank yelled, staggering up off the floor to grab the bag away from the curious dog. 

“What’s that?” Connor asked, head cocked in a similar fashion to Sumo’s.

Hank smiled down at the horrible sweater hidden within the bag. “Oh, just an early Christmas gift....” 


End file.
